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Showing posts with label Evernight Publishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Evernight Publishing. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Book Review: When a Vamp Falls (War of Blood and Bonds Book 1) by A.M Griffin + giveaway

by A.M Griffin
15-MAR-2018
Pages: 290
Genre: Paranormal
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Ramsey will stop at nothing to keep Danya safe from harm—even go to war to protect the one he loves.

Danya Evans’s normal everyday life is turned upside down when one good deed lands her on the opposite end of fangs. The fangs happen to be attached to the sexiest man she’s ever seen.
She knows that she should stay away from the vampire who almost kills her, but everything about Ramsey calls out to her heart and soul.

Ramsey Moreau, a Vampire who has walked Earth for thousands of years has two regrets. The first is underestimating the two new vampires who’ve found their way into New Orleans and the second is stealing blood from the trusting human he can't get off his mind. His world is mundane to say the least, but when Danya is around he finds a reason to live and love again.

He'll stop at nothing to keep her safe from harm—even go to war to protect the one he loves.


Danya’s sister Bride decides a girl’s weekend is in order and buys tickets for Dani and Jamie to come with her to New Orleans. When Dani had mentioned a vacation, this was not what she had in mind. When Dani makes a less than stellar decision she finds herself meeting a very sexy man who happens to be a vampire. She knows that she should stay away from him but everything in her says he is her soulmate and her heart keeps overriding her survival instinct.

Griffin has a good start to the War of Blood and Bond series with When a Vamp Falls. The sex scenes will heat you up and storyline is solid. The characters introduced in the story opens up some possibilities for future storylines. I am hoping to see something develop between Nadine and Vallus. I know that vampire love stories can be a dime a dozen but this one was surprisingly refreshing and enjoyable. I hope to see some more supernatural creatures introduced as the series goes on.

Getting 5 sheep





Denise B

Excerpt
Death by sun meant fire, more pain, and more screaming. As far as Ramsey was concerned the whole ordeal would’ve been an overall drawn out affair.

But he was ready for it. He’d planned to greet the sun like a big boy.

Until his ego reared its ugly head.

There was no fucking way he would be taken out by two piddly fledglings. His self-preservation kicked into high gear.

He’d struggled, trying to get himself to safety. Wait out the impending sunrise in the shadows. But he couldn’t move. The blade they’d used had severed the tendons in his legs, and the force of the blows had crushed through his knees, just to name a few of the injuries.

In vain he’d tried to establish a telepathic link with Marcos, his assistant, but he couldn’t block out the pain and concentrate long enough to complete the thought. Without help he was good as dead. His only hope had been to use his dwindling energy to psychically call for help and pray that a passerby came to his rescue.

It had worked, and now because he’d turned his back on an enemy, he had to steal.

Ramsey didn’t want to take her blood without her permission, but with death at the front door and his ego urging him on, he had no other choice. The moment the woman had stepped into the alley he’d caught her scent. She smelled like the sweetest flower, rising above the stench of piss, feces, throw-up, and garbage. His instincts kicked in overdrive.

He needed her.

Her blood pumped hard and fast through her body. The sound weighed on his ears, his mind driving him to rise up and devour her. He struggled to move, unable to keep control.

He’d willed her closer.

She’d come with tentative steps.

Closer.

He’d stopped breathing. Her scent drove him insane. His body demanded the blood in order to survive.

Blood.

Mentally, he tried to lure her. He’d tried and tried, but couldn’t focus on the thought. Her blood was all he could think about. It consumed him.

“What happened to you?” she asked in a soft whisper.

Come closer. “Jumped. Stabbed. Dying.” He could barely speak. He’d wanted her so badly.

She stayed where she was. Red clouded his vision. Blood lust set in. He needed her. Now.

He’d tried to lunge, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. He whimpered in frustration, pain, and need.

Come closer.

“Do you have a cell phone? I have to call for help, but I left mine at the hotel.”

He didn’t have one. There’d never been a need. Everything he wanted to tell Marcos was done telepathically. He opened his mouth to tell her no, but changed his mind at the last second.

No. Then she’ll leave. “My … my back pocket.” He could barely talk anymore, his energy draining fast.

She’d rushed to him and kneeled at his side. The sound of her blood pounded in his head.

He couldn’t stop himself, and he breathed her scent in.

Delectable.

“Holy shit. This is all blood. You need an ambulance, mister.”

She pushed against him. Her hands roamed his butt, searching for a phone that wasn’t there. With all the strength he could muster he grabbed her, holding her in a vise-grip. She struggled against him, but even dying he had more strength than she did.

“Hey. Wh-what are you doing?”

“Sorry about this.”

He’d opened his mouth wide, his canines elongating in response. She looked on in horror, her screams caught in her throat as he descended on her neck. His teeth pierced her skin, and immediately the warm rush of blood filled his mouth.

She’d tasted better than he’d ever imagined.


About the Author:
A. M. Griffin is a wife who rarely cooks, mother of three, dog owner (and sometimes dog owned), a daughter, sister, aunt and friend. She's a hard worker whose two favorite outlets are reading and writing. She enjoys reading everything from mystery novels to historical romances and of course fantasy romance. She is a believer in the unbelievable, open to all possibilities from mermaids in our oceans and seas, angels in the skies and intelligent life forms in distant galaxies.


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Friday, January 19, 2018

Book Review: The Chef and the Ghost of Bartholomew Addison Jenkins by Aletta Thorne

The Chef and the Ghost of Bartholomew Addison Jenkins
by Aletta Thorne
October 26, 2017
Genre: paranormal romance, 
mainstream romance, holiday
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
ASIN: B076WJK63L
Number of pages: 158
Word Count: 51,000
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
What happens if you have a one-nighter—with a ghost?

Halloween, 1982. MTV is new, poodle perms are the rage, and life just might be getting better for Alma Kobel. Her ugly divorce is final at last. Her new job as chef at Bright Day School’s gorgeous old estate is actually fun. But the place is haunted—and so is Alma’s apartment.

Bartholomew Addison Jenkins’ ghost has been invisibly watching Alma for months. When he materializes one night, Alma discovers Bart—as he likes to be called—has talents she couldn’t have imagined … and a horrifying past. Can you have a one-nighter with a ghost? And what happens if you decide one night is all you want—and end up ghosting him? Some spirits don’t like taking “no” for an answer.

Alma is broke after her divorce but happy as a chef at Bright Day School’s where she is in charge of the kitchen staff and all the meals. The estate is fun, beautiful and did I mention haunted? Alma is shocked to find out she’s had a ghost at her apartment watching her for quite a while by the name of Bartholomew Addison Jenkins who died in the 1700’s. She’s also surprised to find that he is somewhat of a legend in town.

A cute little story that takes place in the early 80’s about love, ghosts, and everyday life. The characters are relatable with a few little surprises along the way. The sparks that ignite enhance the story’s romance.

Getting 4 sheep






Denise B


Excerpt:
A ghost. Of course he was a ghost—even though before that night, she’d never felt anything spooky at her place in the almost-year she’d lived in it. Alma still had the plate with the omelet on it in one hand. Ghosts didn’t eat, did they? She held it out to him anyway.

“Go ahead and have your supper,” he said. “I don’t need food. I take it you understand why.”

Alma nodded, not sure what to say. For a ghost, the man looked rather … dashing, she decided was the world. He must have been muscular in life. There were nicely rounded biceps under that loose shirt, and they showed when he moved his arms. His knee knickers fit tightly over a flat belly, and his stockings made his calves look like they were made out of smooth, white marble. His eyes were a startling, luminous golden brown.

“Sadly, we are still perfectly able to smell a good meal cooking.”

“We?” Alma said.

The man nodded. “Your dead,” he said, solemnly.

“My dead?” she said.

“Well, you live here, don’t you? So, I’m your dead, now.” He stopped looking so serious then and as if guys in knee knickers and white stockings were born doing it, he opened her refrigerator and pulled out the bottle of Chablis. “Here, give me your glass,” he said, and topped it off. The glow from the refrigerator’s light made him even more luminous—and just the slightest bit translucent.

“Thanks,” she said, although it was her wine. She put her plate and glass down on a little enamel-topped kitchen table she’d bought at a local church thrift shop and pulled out one of the table’s funky old chairs for herself.

“Fork? Napkin?” he said, pulling those things out of the drawers next to Alma’s stove. Alma used cloth napkins from the restaurant supplier—big white ones.

“You know where my things are,” she said, spreading the napkin across her lap.

“That shouldn’t surprise you,” he said. “Eat your omelet while it’s hot. Go ahead.”

Alma took a bite. “Um, the pepper grinder on the stove?” she said. “Could you, please?”

“My lady.” He smiled and handed it to her with a little bow.

She ground a little pepper over her plate and took another bite and sipped her wine. He sat down across from her, put his elbows on the table, and his chin in his hands.

“I enjoy watching you eat.”

“Okay, I guess. It’s not … weird?”

“No.”

A ghost is watching me eat an omelet. “What’s your name?”

“Bartholomew Addison Jenkins,” he said. “These days, I just use Bart.”

“These days. But you’ve been here since you…”

“Since 1784,” he said.

“Which was when you died, I guess.”

“I must tell you, dear lady, saying that to one of us is considered rude. In better ghostly circles, that is. Some of us are not aware we are dead. Some of us do not like to be reminded of it.”

About the Author:
website-FB-Personal FB
Aletta Thorne believes in ghosts. In her non-writing life, she is a choral singer, a poet, a sometimes DJ, and a writer about things non-supernatural. But she’s happiest in front of a glowing screen, giving voice to whoever it is that got her two cats all riled up at three AM. Yes, her house is the oldest one on her street. And of course, it’s quite seriously haunted (scared the ghost investigator who came to check it out). She is named after a little girl in her family who died in the late nineteenth century, at the age of two. The Chef and the Ghost of Bartholomew Addison Jenkins is her first romance.

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